


Last Night

by berreh



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Awkward Sexual Situations, F/M, Morning After, Sex Pollen, Walk Of Shame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 03:23:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8128550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berreh/pseuds/berreh
Summary: Julian wakes up the morning after.





	

**Author's Note:**

> written July 11, 2013 in the midst of a DS9 rewatch. Takes place during episode 3x10 'Fascination'.

~*~never forget~*~

* * *

 

_i feel my head still spinning but i'm doing alright  
cause i think i just had the best night of my life_

 

Julian opened his eyes.

He blinked at the ceiling until his eyes began to adjust to the dim glow of the security lighting, still turned down for night watch. His ceiling looked different. The color was wrong, and it almost looked like— was that a pattern? He blinked some more until his vision cleared, trying to force his fuzzy wits to focus. Yes, there was a pattern over the security light. Something had been fastened across the grating — swathes of gauzy cloth in several colors, strung across the ceiling to soften the sterile Starfleet glare.

Bajoran prayer cloth.

Julian's eyes went wide.

He turned his head.

The woman lying next to him was petite and shapely, the contours of her body glowing in the dim light, hard and soft together, sinuous with compact strength. It was most definitely not the body of Ensign Qiika, his most recent female acquaintance — Qiika was one centimeter taller than Julian, with long pink hair and skin the color of Merlot. The back facing him was almost as pale as the Argellian linen beneath it, curving from fine-boned shoulder to diminutive waist and back up to the sheet draped over one hip. Cropped auburn hair stuck up in unruly tufts around the strands of a Bajoran earring.

Julian looked back at the ceiling.

_Oh, bugger._

 

\-------SEVEN HOURS EARLIER-------

 

Julian's finger stopped a millimeter short of the com button.

_What are you doing? This is ludicrous, what if someone sees you? Commander Sisko told you not to come here!_

_No, he suggested I didn't come. He didn't order me. Why should he? We're all adults here, aren't we?_

He withdrew his finger, then reached for the button again, then jerked his hand back and turned away. Biting his fingernail, he began to pace back and forth in front of the door.

_If you do this, you'll regret it._

_Maybe I'll regret NOT doing this._

_That's a very good point._

_Well make up your mind before someone sees you skulking around Major Kira's quarters and calls a security team._

_Think, Julian, think! You know what's happening here. Just go back to your quarters, have a drink, maybe try that holovid Quark gave you..._

_Yes. That's what I'll do. Off you go, Bashir. Maybe—_

The door slid open, and a pair of hands grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him inside.

Nerys slammed Julian to his back against the bulkhead, toppling several ornaments on her dresser. Between kisses she said, "I didn't think ... you were coming."

His hands ran up her back. "I tried ... not to. I really ... shouldn't be here."

"No ... you shouldn't." The transparent green dress fell around her feet, leaving her in the orange bodysuit she wore underneath. She curled a leg around his thigh and dug both hands into his hair. "This is ... a very ... bad idea."

"Terrible. Tomorrow we—" She found the spot behind his ear and he broke off in a gasp, followed by a sigh. "Commander Sisko ... tried ... to talk me out of it."

"Did he order you?"

"Not precisely."

"Good."

She had his shirt bunched up beneath his armpits; together they twisted and flailed until they got it over his head, where it promptly got stuck. Julian wrestled with the slippery fabric, cursing when it pulled his hair, until it wrenched free so violently he would have fallen over if she hadn't been pressing him to the wall. He threw the shirt aside just as Nerys slid her arms around his waist. His fingers trailed across the slick fabric of her bodysuit as his mouth trailed across her throat.

"I'm terribly sorry ... about this."

"It's not your fault." She dipped her head back to give him better access. "It's the ... the..."

"Zanthi fever."

"Yes, that."

"Yes, but—" He got the strap off one shoulder, and his lips took its place— "I'm a doctor ... I have ... a responsibility ... not to—" She pulled her arm from the strap and he tugged the fabric downward— "Not to take ... advantage ... of..."

"Julian."

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

Without warning she jumped into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist. With her hands in his hair and her mouth on his, Julian attempted to maneuver them toward the bed. He stumbled out of his shoes and tripped over them twice, stubbed his toe on the end table, banged a knee against the dresser, and finally toppled them both sprawling across the mattress, bumping Nerys' head into the nightstand.

"Ouch."

"Sorry."

"Can you reach my—"

"Yes, hang on—"

"No, other side—"

"How do you get— ow—"

In a tangle of elbows, knees, kisses, expletives, and apologies, they continued their clumsy disrobing until bodysuit, trousers, and underthings lay scattered across the floor. Julian moved to roll them over, shifting his weight to brace himself above her, and Nerys hooked a leg around his waist and flipped him onto his back, straddling him as easily as she would have subdued a suspect on the promenade, with both hands pinned above his head.

"Oh. Alright then."

"What's wrong? Are you intimidated by strong women?"

"Not at all, I— oh, well, that's— I quite like them actually."

"I can see that." She released his wrists and shifted her balance, grinning at the noise he made when she moved her hips, and leaned back as he reached for her.

"You have good hands."

"Yes, well I _am_ a doctor. It's always been… been… my—"

"Julian."

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

The porthole over the bed was screened with Bolian silk, but Julian saw stars.

 

\-------SEVEN HOURS LATER-------

 

Julian stared at the prayer cloth draped across Major Kira's ceiling, and he weighed his options. A discreet exit would be best, he decided — that would give them both time to recuperate, and then later they could have a brief private word in Ops to show no harm was done. Yes, that would be the best course of action. A brief word between two professional colleagues, two mature and rational adults.

Or he could flee to his quarters and never bring up the subject again. That sounded even better.

Gingerly he eased the sheet back just enough to slide his legs toward the edge of the bed. Beyond it he could see a wrinkled lump of purple and blue that must be his clothes — he moved a little further, slowly, carefully, shifting his weight as little as possible. If he could just get to his trousers without—

"THE TIME IS 0500."

Kira flinched and groaned, rolling over onto her back. Julian stuck his legs under the sheet and jerked it up to his navel.

"THE TIME IS 0500," the computer repeated.

"Yes, yes, I heard you." Kira yawned and stretched, arching her back. Julian stared at the ceiling. Another yawn, and then she turned her head and opened her eyes. She blinked at him twice. Her eyes went wide.

"Good morning?" Julian said.

Kira gasped and snatched the sheet up to her chin with both hands. She stared at him, hair disheveled and eyes huge, as her face flushed with returning memory.

"Good morning."

Neither spoke for an eternal few seconds. Julian wracked his brain for something to say, and in the end he gave up and fell back on the easiest response available to him.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine — I'm, um, I'm fine. Now. You?"

"Oh, I'm good. I mean, I'm fine, too. Now. Also."

"That's good." She peered around the room like she was scouting a perimeter, probably looking for her clothes. And then: "I, um... I have to be at Ops in an hour."

"Yes, of course. I should be getting to the infirmary."

Neither moved.

"Count of three?" Julian said.

"Count of three."

"One — two — three."

In tandem they sprang up and spun to face opposite walls. Julian grabbed his trousers and flung his shirt over his head; both were wrinkled beyond disguise, and the shirt had a quite obvious tear in the neckline. He could only imagine the look on Garak's face if he brought it in for mending. Better to just throw it out. Behind him he could hear similar rustlings, and the sound of dresser drawers opening and closing.

"You know, we shouldn't feel bad about this," Kira said.

"Of course not."

"I mean, it wasn't our fault."

"Not at all," Julian said. "It was the, um, the—"

"Zanthi fever."

"Yes, that."

"So we really have nothing to be embarrassed about."

"Absolutely."

"We're both adults, right? We can handle this. We know it wasn't really us."

"No, not at all."

"I mean, you're not even my type."

"Exactly. I—" Julian turned around. "What do you mean by that?"

Kira jerked a knot in the ties of a very thick and very opaque robe. "Oh, forget it."

She walked into the living area, yawning again, and ran a hand through her hair in an unsuccessful attempt to smooth it down. "Raktajino," she barked at the replicator. After a sip she added, "Would you like one? Or Tarkalean tea?"

"No, thank you." He began to tuck in his shirt but gave up when he saw how rumpled it was; instead he scraped his fingers through his own hair, which he knew was in even worse shape than hers, and went into the living area to search for his socks and shoes.

"Under the sofa," Kira said.

"Thank you."

Shoes in hand, he met her in front of the door, where they faced each other in awkward silence. Eventually Julian cleared his throat.

"Well. I promised Miles I'd run some tests for him this morning. And I should probably check in on the others."

"The others? Oh. The others. Right."

"You know, to see if they're still experiencing, um, symptoms."

"Right. Well, I'm sure I'll see you in Ops."

"Of course."

"Doctor."

"Major."

The door slid open, and as Julian turned to go, he paused on the threshold. "Nerys, I—" Holding his shoes in one hand, he scratched his hair with the other. "I, um, well, I just wanted to say that... Bareil is very lucky."

Kira smiled. She rose on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek, then sipped her raktajino and grinned. "So is— wait, who is it this week?"

Julian laughed. "I'll see you later."

The door closed behind him and he crept barefoot down the hallway. The corridor was blessedly empty in both directions; he had never been more grateful for an early shift. The lift came into view at the end of the hall and he quickened his pace, visualizing his imminent escape. At the door he pressed the button and craned his neck, trying to look everywhere at once. Nothing. He grinned as the gates opened, and promptly collided with the person already inside.

Miles was in uniform, a repair kit slung over his shoulder and a grin spreading across his face. "Good morning, Doctor." To the computer he called, "Deck four," and the lift hummed into motion.

Julian glanced down at his dishabille. The arm clutching his shoes was bruised in two places. "Miles, I know how this must look—"

"Relax, Julian. It's none of my business."

"So, then, I don't suppose you'll feel the need to mention this to anyone?"

"Mention what? That I saw you skulking to your quarters with your cacks half off? I doubt anyone would be surprised." He patted Julian on one rumpled shoulder. "Don't worry, mate. Extenuating circumstances. A lot of people on this station are tip-toeing down corridors this morning. Your secret is safe with me."

Julian sighed and slumped against the railing, shaking his head. "What a night."

"You can say that again."

"Well anyway, if you'd like to stop by the infirmary in an hour or so, I can run those tests for you." Curiosity replaced his chagrin, and he peered into Miles' face. "How are you feeling this morning? Everything alright? No more headaches?"

"No, none at all. I'm fine." Miles said. Smiling, he added, "Better than fine, actually."

"And so is Keiko?"

"Keiko? Oh yeah, she's right as rain."

The lift jerked to a stop; the doors opened, and Miles stepped out. As the gate closed between them, he grinned at Julian's perplexed face and winked.

"Some things never wear off, Doctor."


End file.
